


WALieReveRfiTTe HAWKINS 




Class _:;^S 35 \b 

Book AjAIAs 

(bpyright N" \ ^ L Q 



COKOSIGHT DEPOSIT. 



CHORDS AND 
DISCORDS 



BY 



WALTER EVERETTE HAWKINS 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



Copyright, 1920, by Walter Everette Hawkins 
All Rights Reserved 



f^' w 






JAN 1 9 1920 

Made in the United States of America 
The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. 



©CI.A561518 







DEDICATION 



To the loved and lost one, 
To the found and loved ones, 

And 
To the sons and daughters of promise 
Wherever they abide, 

I dedicate my dreams. 



"I love you because you love the things that I love." 

— Elbert Hubbard. 



PREFACE 

Herein I make my bow to a critical public with 
that fear and trembling which naturally come to 
one attempting to bear a mere taper in a world 
already adorned with luminous orbs. 

The unfavorable circumstances under which these 
verses were written can hardly justify my putting 
them before the public. Some were begun in my 
early "teens" when I was a crude, unlettered coun- 
try waif and my little world stretched out just across 
a few acres of corn and cotton to the little creek on 
the further side of the cow pasture, thence back and 
up the lane to the old schoolhouse and back home 
again. Others, while resting on my indulgent hoe 
or freighted bag between the cotton rows; or mid 
the clatter and grime of railroad travel; or walking 
along the dusty thorof ares of the town ; or in such 
moments which I could snatch from the grinding 
pursuit of bread with mountains of Toil, Poverty 
and Hate looming big and ominous before me to 
mar my vision. These haunts have been indeed too 
common-place to invite the delicate feet of the 
Muses, and if they have ever deigned to rustle their 
wings about me, the hard realities have so engrossed 
me that I failed to hear them. 

Yet I have always felt something singing within 



Preface 

me ; and out in the misty ways beyond the sickening 
shadows and the sordid strife of the earth-clod, 
sweet visions of joy and love have beckoned me and 
soul of mine has plumed its wings to fly away. 

Nothing herein is the product of mature thought 
or study. These verses just wrote themselves. I 
have merely been the instrument thru which some 
peculiar unknown something has been speaking since 
childhood. How near they may reach the mark of 
real poetry I know not, and "it is my breeding that 
gives me this bold show of courtesy" in offering 
them to the consideration of friends. 

My greatest reward lies in the hope that some 
Chords herein struck may be the inspiration of some 
into whose hands they may come, and set into motion 
a stream of fellow-feeling, of friendship and love 
flowing from them to me and from me to them, 
thence to all the hearts that throb and thrill with 
the joy that makes kings and queens of this our 
common clay. 

If I can add to the life of another just a gleam 
of good cheer, a tint of golden gladness, or a bub- 
ble of pure, honest laughter, I shall feel that I am 
helping to plume the pinions with which we wing 
ourselves upward. 

If there be some Discords here which seem harsh 
to some, know that the harshest note which lan- 
guage owns is mild as childhood's lightest song com- 
pared with the pangs of the soul that seeks expres- 
sion here. 

There may be more to tickle and please in the 
8 



Preface 

parrot's prattle or cuckoo's song, but there is cer- 
tainly more power and purpose in the eagle's scream 
and the lion's roar. 

The piper does not create the music; he can but 
blow his flute or strike his harp, and the notes which 
issue forth, whether they blend in harmonious ca- 
dences or quiver in rasping discords, are the voices 
in the soul of the instrument created by forces not 
his own. 

If perchance there should wait a safe rest for the 
feet of this my infant fledgling, then "O Crito, if 
so it seem good to the Gods, so let it be." 

And now, indulgent reader, were I Cleanthes and 
thou Zeus, thus would I sing: "Lead me, O Zeus, 
and thou, Destiny, whithersoever ye have appointed 
me to go, and may I follow fearlessly; but if in 
an evil mind I be unwilling, still must I follow." 
Sincerely, 

The Author. 
Washington, D. C, 

June, 1919. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 7 

The Bursting of the Chrysalis 15 

The Birth 16 

Off to the Fields of Green 17 

Love Song 22 

A Caged Bird 23 

By the Sea 25 

Wooing 26 

A Spade is Just a Spade 27 

Here and Hereafter 28 

Immortality 29 

A Mother's Lullaby 30 

Chewing Gum . 33 

The Recompense 35 

The Bread My Mamma Makes 36 

Wail on a Wicked Bachelor 39 

The Riches I Love 41 

The Drowsy World Dreams On 42 

Ask Me Why I Love You 43 

God 45 

Love Song 46 

Wrong's Reward 47 

II 



Contents 

PAGE 

Too Much Religion 49 

The First Lie 51 

Apotheosis 54 

A Festival in Christendom 55 

The Death of Justice 59 

Land of the Living Lie 61 

Evolution 63 

In Spite of Death 66 

The Goody Goody Good 67 

The Struggle of the Age 70 

Religion 72 

The Lark and the Song 74 

So Sweet of You 76 

Love's Unchangeableness 79 

The Downfall of Haman 80 

To a Singing Bird 81 

To THE Hypocrite 83 

The Warbler and the Worm 85 

To THE Humming Bird 88 

To THE Apologist 89 

To Nellie 90 

The Kissing School 91 

Where Air of Freedom is 95 

They Shall Not Pass 97 

Credo 99 

Hero of the Road 100 

12 



CHORDS AND DISCORDS 



THE BURSTING OF THE CHRYSALIS 

Long, long shut in this dismal cell 

I slept, I mused, I dreamed 
Of things in brighter worlds that dwell, 

No poet ever themed ; 
I broke the sordid prison shell, 

And out on wings I beamed. 

A fair world met mine eyes and lo! 

The feathered chirping throng 
Had caused the world to thrill and flow 

With music sweet and strong; 
The Sun set in an afterglow, 

My heart burst into song. 



15 



Chords and Discords 



THE BIRTH 

When pregnant darkness ruled the n I 

His Spirft on the darkness h ^'^'' 
Chaos ,n travail rent the vdl !l!!!°"'' 

Tl^en^orning broke, and 'eanh was born. 



16 



Chords and Discords 



OFF TO THE FIELDS OF GREEN 

I was called the wayward lad, 
The strangest child my mother had; 
They all were loved excepting me, 
The rottenest limb on the family tree. 
Stubborn, selfish, so they sneer, 
Rather peculiar, odd and queer, 
Couldn't be loving and wouldn't obey, 
Born for his freedom and to have his way. 
Temper, the like was never known, 
Such as a king would hardly own, 
Would fight, altho in every one 
Thrice whipped he'd be when each was done. 
And when the time for reckoning came, 
Which one it was to bear the blame, 
Perhaps a lie would stain my lip. 
And then beneath the chastening whip 
I'd reap my dues and off I'd skip, 

OfF to the fields of green. 

Nine stalwart boys to brave the work, 
One wayward chap to hide and shirk, 
Nine champions bold with pick and spade. 
One dreaming youngster in the shade. 
Whate'er the blame would chance to be. 
It all would surely fall on me. 

17 



Chords and Discords 



The mountains of the world were piled 
On this peculiar thirteenth child. 
Thro all the conflict firm I stood, 
And bravely as a youngster could; 
For thus 'tis said in every age 
It is a common heritage, 
That one should bear his brother's blame. 
And share alike another's shame. 
A witch stepped in the family pot 
At times and things grew somewhat hot. 
And things began to boil and bubble, 
(I never liked to trouble trouble.) 
My hound and I to join the chase 
Would steal away and off we'd race 
With yelp and yell and quickened pace, 
Off to the fields of green. 

To chase the hare, what grander joy 
Can thrill the heart of farmer boy. 
When skies are blue and fields are green. 
And nature wears a robe of sheen, 
When flowers gay and tempting shade 
Combine to make the heart feel glad, 
And songs of birds and brooklets gay 
Combine to chase dull care away. 
Mid sports of youth the summons came 
To go to school. (Am I to blame 
Because I saw my honored name 
Inscribed upon the walls of fame?) 
I left my hoe upon the farm. 



i8 



Chords and Discords 



The bucket fell from off my arm 
Wherewith from out the hillside spring 
I'd bear the liquid offering. 
I proudly walked mid classic halls 
Where classic lore rang from the walls, 
And sweet Pierian springs sprang up 
Where young ambition fain might sup 
The treasured nectar from the bowl 
To quench the thirst within the soul. 
But while I drank to youthful dreams, 
Too soon I muddied up the streams. 
For I was young and youth is rude 
Untamed by years of hardihood ; 
And so we claim boyhood careers 
The scapegoat of our after years. 
Demerits forty, plus three-score 
Stood 'gainst my name, it took no more 
To have my name (Alas! for shame!) 
Erased from off the halls of fame. 
I stood before the college judge, 
But young ambition didn't budge, 
Except to hang my head for shame 
Of banishment beside my name. 
The sentence read in language bold,- 



My pulse stopped still, my heart froze cold ; 
"You are guilty, Sir, of many a flaw, 
And oft have rudely broke the law. 
And since you cannot keep the rule, 
We now dismiss you from the school." 
And since I found it hard to stay, 
And had no tears the debt to pay, 

19 



Chords and Discords 



I packed my bag and sailed away, 
Back to the fields of green. 

But they who strive shall never lack, 
Thro mercy's plea they took me back, 
And at the shrine I pledged my truth 
To be no more the wayward youth. 
And they who once would oft deride 
The wayward boy now said with pride, 
And smiling face and grateful look, 
"A clever chap when with a book." 
And since vacation days have come 
And school is out the paths lead home. 
They who once scorned the heedless lad 
And called him names which sound so bad 
Now think it not a sacrifice 
To bend their wills to his advice. 
And with reflection o'er the scene 
Of bygone days I stroll the green 
With dog and book and yearning soul 
To reach ambition's hoped-for goal. 
And yet despite the worldly glare 
Of pomp and wealth and jewels rare 
In all the world wherein we rove, 
I boast but one, a mother's love. 
And still a child to life unknown, 
I'll be a man some day, I own, 
And then perhaps I shall obey 
The things my friends will have to say. 
But long as hope rides o'er the storm 
And fires of life and love burn warm, 
20 



Chords and Discords 



I need no watchman on the wall 

Excepting brave ambition's call. 

My heart's a pilot at the helm, 

No waves can my little bark o'erwhelm. 

I'll bravely breast the raging waves, 

And gently sail the deep dark caves, 

And rise triumphant o'er the ills, 

My haven's underneath the hills. 
And when the final triumph shall call 
The sons of men both great and small 
To give account of what they've done, 
What battles fought, what victories won; 
The sheep run in to the shepherd's fold. 
And the goats go shivering in the cold. 
May I not blush to hear my name, . 
May I not hang my head in shame; 
But gladly take my humble share 

Where all is love and all is fair, 

If I meet none save my mother there, 
Then off to the Fields of Green. 



21 



Chords and Discords 



LOVE SONG 

Oft I soar above the shadows where no din of strife 
is heard, 
And I gather golden gleams of other days; 
I can hear thy name resounding in each note of pass- 
ing bird, 
And each note is full of blessings and of praise. 

And the buds of life are blooming and all nature's 

fair and sweet. 
And the chimes are bringing music o'er the lea; 
But I'd give the world of beauties for one moment 

at thy feet. 
And to know thy heart is open unto me. 

I would gather all the blossoms from the gardens 
of the world 
To weave into a mantle for thy feet; 
I would gather all the jewels from the starry vault 
unfurled 
To deck thy gentle brow, my own, my sweet. 



22 



Chords and Discords 



A CAGED BIRD 

Poor caged bird, it were a shame 
To shut him in from his sweet dame; 
She sings heartbroken on the bough, 
I hear her saddened love song now. 

She calls from out the wind-tossed tree, 
It melts the stony heart in me; 
She calls from morn till set of Sun : 
"What harm has my lost lover done?" 

He beats his wings against the bars, 
And dreams of woodland slopes and stars. 
His airy world shut from his ken. 
He droops back on his perch again. 

Sweet springing grass and fields of hay. 
The leafy trees and gladsome day, 
The kingdoms of the flight of wing, — 
But naught for him save sorrowing. 

A pain shoots thro his pulsing heart, 
It breaks and breaks till it falls apart; 
He hides his grief and wraps his wrong 
In a bubbling burst of sorrow song. 

23 



Chords and Discords 



pent-up grief! my heart doth know, 

1 fain would fly but cannot go; 

I wait and dream of hills and stars 
Till unseen fingers break my bars. 



24 



Chords and Discords 



BY THE SEA 

Something in the mists of twilight 
Wafted from across the sea, 

Something like a voice of heaven 
Whispers sadly unto me. 

And I sit beneath the willow^s, 
And I list to crooning dove, 

And my heart is in his crooning 
As he calls his distant love. 

I can hear thy merry music 
High above the surging Sea. 

And it breaks upon my dreaming 
Like a w^ave of rapsody. 

I can hear thy accents tender, 
And the whir of bustling feet. 

Feel the thrill of fingers slender, 
Child-like, innocent and sweet. 

And thy ringing childish laughter 
Floats upon the rippling tide, 

And my heart doth send thee greetings 
Back across the great divide. 

25 



Chords and Discords 



WOOING 

Tell me why you yielded, love, 

To my simple plea — 
Some good grace that you wot of, 

You discerned in me? 

When I touched your hand, dear child, 

Passing thru the glen. 
And you glanced at me and smiled — 

Did you love me then ? 

When upon thyself so meek, 
A rose I sought to pin — 

A sweeter rose bloomed in your cheek- 
Did you love me then ? 

When I filled your goblet up, 

Crystal clear and thin; 
You left love within my cup — 

Did you love me then? 



26 



Chords and Discords 



A SPADE IS JUST A SPADE 

As I talk with learned people, 
I have heard a strange remark, 
Quite beyond my comprehension. 
And I'm stumbling in the dark. 
They advise : Don't be too modest, 
Whatsoever thing is said. 
Give to every thing its color, 
Alvi^ays call a spade a spade. 

Now I am not versed in Logic, 
Nor these high-flown classic things, 
And am no adept in solving 
Flighty aphoristic flings; 
So this proverb seems to baffle 
All the efforts I have made, — 
Now what else is there to call it, 
When a spade is just a spade.'' 



27 



Chords and Discords 



HERE AND HEREAFTER 

I can see no cause for worry 
'Bout a future heaven or hell, 
For the thing has long been settled 
And it's plain as tongue can tell; 
And it's mighty poor religion 
That won't keep a man from fear; 
For the next place inust be heaven, 
Since 'tis hell we are having here. 



28 



Chords and Discords 



IMMORTALITY 

Deep down within this failing frame, 

Dwells an immortal voice; 
It keeps the heart with hope aflame, 

Makes languid life rejoice. 
Be true to Life and Love we must, 

That inward voice obey. 
Preserve with care this sacred dust, — 

The everlasting Yea 
Speaks from beneath this crumbling clod. 

To truth be true, — obey. 



29 



Chords and Discords 



A MOTHER'S LULLABY 

I have heard the prince of songsters, 

Pour his soul upon the air; 
And have heard sweet bells of Sabbath 

Softly calling souls to prayer; 
But the song that touched me deepest, 

Till I turned aside to weep, 
Was the soul song of a mother, 

As she sang her child to sleep. 

See her leaning o'er her nursling, 

With her soul within her eyes; 
Angel-vigil she is keeping. 

With a holy sacrifice ; 
And the heart melts with compassion 

As she looks in love and hums: 
"Hush-a-bye, your mamma's darling. 

Sleep before the sandman comes." 

There's a world of tender pathos 

As she sings her "Hush-a-bye," 
Half in pity, half in scolding. 

As she tells him, "Don't you cry." 
And she tells him of the sandman. 

And the goblins that are nigh, 
Just to steal the naughty darling 

If he will not hush-a-bye. 

30 



Chords and Discords 



Then her lullaby will soften, 

As the strain doth upward roll, 
Moves you with a sad sweet gladness, 

Breaks the midnight of the soul; 
And the teardrops start unbidden. 

And you can't tell reason why, 
But your iron heart is melted 

In the mother's lull-a-bye. 

And the little one's face will brighten 

With a witchery of smiles 
That betray the meek deception 

In its witchery of wiles ; 
And she tucks him in her bosom, 

And to heaven lifts her eyes. 
Hiding him away in Jesus, 

Ere the fearful tempests rise. 

You may sing the glad hosannas, 

You may chant the happy chimes, 
With their beats and bars and measures, 

And their quaint fantastic rhymes; 
But the mother's song is dearest. 

Lifts you up on wings of love. 
And it wakes the harp of angels 

Round the mercy seat above. 

And you view the Land of Beulah, 

In the sweetness of the song; 
And the pearly gates swing open 

31 



Chords and Discords 



As the mother croons along; 
And she lifts her child to Heaven, 

On the prayer her soul doth hum; 
"Hide me, O Thou Rock of Ages," 

Ere the fearful tempests come. 



32 



Chords and Discords 



CHEWING GUM 

On that night the church was crowded and the 
preacher rose with pride, 

And he preached of the creation and of Jesus cruci- 
fied ; 

And he warned them of repentance, and the awful 
judgment day. 

He rebuked the creeds and doctrines, preached the 
straight and narrow way; 

And he preached sanctification, told about the king- 
dom come, — 

But that heartless congregation sat a-chewing chew- 
ing gum. 

Then the choir sang "Old Hundred" till they made 
the welkin ring, 

Then they turned to "Rock of Ages," simply to the 
cross they'd cling, 

And they sang of Calvary's Martyr and the blessed 
Beulah Land, 

Till they lifted you to glory with the saints at God's 
right hand; 

And the angels stopped to listen, all their golden 
harps were dumb, — 

But that soulless congregation sat a-chewing chew- 
ing gum. 

33 



Chords and Discords 



Then from out the "amen corner" there arose a fer- 
vent prayer, 

Floating up like fragrant incense for the sinners in 
despair, 

And it laid the world's distresses meekly down at 
Jesus' feet, — 

You could hear the saints a-shouting up and down 
the golden street; 

But from out each side and corner there arose a 
smack and hum. 

For that heartless congregation was a-chewing chew- 
ing gum. 

Then he called unto the sinners to get down upon 
their knees. 

And he raised his voice like thunder in a frenzied 
prayer for these; 

And he painted all the horrors where the imps of 
darkness dwell, 

Plunged them deep in lakes of brimstone, chained 
their wretched souls in hell, 

Where the damned shall be forever, where no light 
of day shall come, — 

But that fearless congregation sat a-chewing chew- 
ing gum. 



34 



Chords and Discords 



THE RECOMPENSE 

One bud to bloom, one bird to sing, 
One star to shine, one harp to ring, 
One smile to gleam between a tear, 
Is all we need to cheer us here. 

To cast a smile mid scoffs and jeers, 

To kiss the cheek that's scorched by tears, 

To pluck a thorn, a rose to spread 

Where feet of innocence may tread; 

To share my crust when friends are few, — 

Is all the good I hope to do. 

One trusting friend is all I pray, 

One star to light the narrow way; 

One angel-whisper 'twixt a moan. 

One trusting hand laid in my own; 

No gilded mansions do I crave. 

No golden streets my hopes would pave ; 

I fain would dwell where hearts are strong, 

Where I may dream and sing my song. 



3S 



Chords and Discords 



THE BREAD MY MAMMA MAKES 

I have tasted all the dainties that they bake across 
the Sea, 

I have tried the snowy manna that they make in Ger- 
many, 

I have dined on Scotland pancakes till I nearly hurt 
my side, 

And have eaten nameless nothings that were rather 
Frenchified, — 

But with all your dainty doughnuts and your curly- 
cues and cakes, 

There is nothing half so pleasing as the bread my 
mamma makes. 

And she kneads it, and she rolls it and she works it 
up and down. 

Then she puts it in the oven till it looks so good and 
brown ; 

And the crust will crisp and crackle, — it's a cone- 
pone bye and bye, 

And you are in the corner quiet, but you are watch- 
ing on the sly, 

For the cone-pone's smiling at you till your little side 
just shakes. 

There is health and joy a-coming from the bread 
that mamma makes. 

36 



Chords and Discords 



When you see the steam arising from the greasy 

oven-pan, 
And you try to keep from shouting just like mamma's 

little man ; 
But your eyes commence a-blinking and your fingers 

fairly itch, 
And a ticklish feeling takes you, you begin to twist 

and twitch, 
For your little heart is bursting and your side just 

shakes and aches, 
There is comfort for that feeling in the bread that 

mamma makes. 

When you leave the dear old fireside and out in the 

world you roam, 
You will think about the goodies that are packed 

away at home; 
You can hear the pot a-singing, and you almost taste 

the beans. 
Then those good old greasy dumplings and those 

good old greasy greens, 
And your heart becomes a rebel and a homeward 

bound it takes, 
Nothing fills that inward yearning like the bread 

that mamma makes. 

Now the biscuits may be dainty that they bake along 
the Rhine, 

And their rolls may look like cotton, but my moth- 
er's bread for mine, 

37 



Chords and Discords 



For it's just so rich and greasy that it almost falls 

apart, 
And it wakes a ticklish feeling in the region of the 

heart ; 
And you just can't hold it longer, for your little 

heart just breaks, 
For the health and joy a-coming from the bread that 

mamma makes. 



38 



Chords and Discords 



WAIL ON A WICKED BACHELOR 

Ho, every one who would be wise, 
Come, hearken to my wail ; 
The hero if ye should despise, 
Spare him who tells the tale. 

A bachelor lived in our town, 
More sour than the rest ; 
He won distinction and renown 
As one ill-tempered pest, 

A selfish life this bachelor led. 
Within his lone retreat; 
The hungry thrice per day he fed 
When he himself did eat. 

He had no comforts for his lot. 
No bounties he desired ; 
The outcast shared his humble cot 
When he himself retired. 

He grumbled with both quick and dead, 
As he alone could wish ; 
And on the waters cast his bread, 
When he went off to fish. 

A proverb heard this wicked soul, 
"Go to the ant, be wise;" 

39 



Chords and Discords 



Straight to his aunt his went and stole 
Her gold before her eyes. 

At length he sought a wife to wed, 
To share his ill-got pelf ; 
He found a wizen witch-like maid 
As wicked as himself. 

They growled and grumbled night and day, 
Each struggling to be free; 
Too much alike in every way 
For either to agree. 

At last she took his coffee cup, 
And doped it on the sly ; 
And when he drank the final drop 
At once fell back to die. 

And when upon his dying bed, 
His head bent to his breast, 
He lifted up his sinking head 
And made one last request. 

He asked her that his money go 
To bachelors who were free; 
She hurled one sharp defiant "No! 
I'll spend it all on me." 

Once more he lifted up his head, 
Defiant eye met eye; 
He sprang up from his bed and said: 
"Then I refuse to die." 



40 



Chords and Discords 



THE RICHES I LOVE 

A crust or a crumb honest labor has earned 

On a board where the torches of virtues have burned, 

Where the smiles of content grace the scenes as they 

move, 
Is the feast where I revel, the banquet I love, 

A bubble of glee from the heart of a child, 

A drink of cold water from hands undefiled, 

A quaff from the spring 'neath the hill by the grove. 

Is the wine that I drink, and the nectar I love. 

The heart of a maiden whose vestures unsoiled, 
Whose hands are unstained tho in poverty toiled. 
Whose honor unpurchased, whom angels approve. 
Is the shrine where I worship, the kingdom I love. 



41 



Chords and Discords 



THE DROWSY WORLD DREAMS ON 

A flower bloomed out on a woodland hill, 
A song rose up from the woodland rill; 
But the floweret bloomed but to wither away, 
And no man heard what the stream had to say. 
For the drowsy world dreamed on. 

Thro the frills of a curtain a moonbeam crept, 
Till it fell on the crib where a nursling slept; 
And a whisper and smile lit a wee dimpled face, 
But none save the angels their beauty could trace. 
For the drowsy world dreamed on. 

A wee bird piped out mid the corn, 
A rose bloomed out beneath the thorn ; 
But the scent of the rose and the birdling's lay 
On the winds of the morning were wafted away 
While the drowsy world dreamed on. 

And the drowsy old world's growing gloomy and 

gray, 
While the joys that are sweetest are passing away; 
And the charms that inspire like the picture of dawn 
Are but playthings of Time — they gleam and are 
gone. 
While the drowsy world dreams on. 



42 



Chords and Discords 



ASK ME WHY I LOVE YOU 

Ask me why I love you, dear, 

And I will ask the rose 
Why it loves the dews of Spring 

At the Winter's close; 
Why the blossoms' nectared sweets 

Loved by questing bee, — 
I will gladly answer you, 

If they answer me. 

Ask me why I love you, dear, 

And I will ask the ffower 
Why it loves the Summer Sun, 

Or the Summer shower ; 
I will ask the lover's heart 

Why it loves the moon, 
Or the star-besprinkled skies 

In a night in June. 

Ask me why I love you, dear, 

And I will ask the vine 
Why its tendrils trustingly 

Round the oak entwine ; 
Why you love the mignonette 

Better than the rue, — 
If you will but answer me, 

I will answer you. 

43 



Chords and Discords 



Ask me why I love you, dear, 

Let the lark reply, 
Why his heart is full of song 

When the twilight's nigh; 
Why the lover heaves a sigh 

When her heart is true; 
If you will but answer me, 

I will answer you. 



44 



Chords and Discords 



GOD 

Islam and Buddha and Christ, all but tend 
Toward the same goal, — these but means toward 

an end. 
In the full depths or winged flights of my mind, 
That which unites me to all human kind, 
Links the All-Good to the goodness in me, 
Makes life sublime today, not life to be, 
Lifts my soul off the harsh rack and the rod. 
Gives me soul-consciousness, — this is my God. 



45 



Chords and Discords 



LOVE SONG 

Child of the May-time, 

Buxom as June, 
Pleasing as gay chime 

Of harps in tune; 
Heart of mine leadeth me 

Prone to thy feet ; 
Blessings that follow thee 

Truly too sweet. 

Lend me thy airy wing, 

Cumberless dove, 
Up and away I'd spring. 

Forth to my love; 
Sheltered from dire distress, 

Shielded from stings 
In the sweet blissfulness 

Thy presence brings. 

Moons wane and pleasures call, 

Days come and go; 
If world on world should fall, — 

Nothing I know. 
Worlds may their charge fulfill 

Or faithless prove; 
Faithful I follow still 

Pleasures of love. 

46 



Chords and Discords 



WRONG'S REWARD 

It is writ in truth eternal, 
And the stars of heaven tell, 
That he who dares to do the wrong 
Has pitched his tent toward hell; 
And his steps shall lead him downward, 
And his tottering limbs shall fall, 
And the wrath of the Avenger 
Shall surround him like a pall. 

It was sung at earth's awakening, 
'Twill be sung when earth is past, 
That the cup of worldly pleasure 
Is embittered at the last. 
'Tis more deeply still recorded, 
Dread injunction 'gainst the strong. 
Men like autumn leaves shall tremble 
When they dare to do the wrong. 

Decked with thorns the right may suffer, 
Wrong may triumph with his crown ; 
At the stake the truth may falter, 
Justice sees her throne pulled down; 
And the retribution tarries, 
And the debt may linger long; 
But the dread recoil is coming 
To the man who does the wrong. 

47 



Chords and Discords 



King and queen may rise and revel 
In the wealth of life they hoard, 
'Neath their sway the slave may swelter 
Underneath his master's load; 
Potentates may reign in power, 
Vile at heart but great in song; 
But the gods hold vindication 
'Gainst the man who does the wrong, 

Lo ! the avenging arm of Justice 
Holds aloof the awful stroke; 
But in pity still she stays it — 
'Tis to man a mocking joke. 
O, when patience is exhausted! 
Wearied out redemption's song! 
Men like autumn leaves shall tremble 
When they dare to do the wrong. 



48 



Chords and Discords 



TOO MUCH RELIGION 

There is too much talk of doctrine, 
Too much talk of church and creeds; 
Far too little loving kindness 
To console the heart that bleeds; 
Too much Sunday church religion, 
Too many stale and bookish prayers. 
Too many souls are getting ragged. 
Aping what their neighbor wears. 

Too much stress upon the washing, 
Whether in a creek or bowl, 
Does it matter since devotion 
Reigns supreme within the soul? 
All the unction and the washing 
That the church on earth applies, 
Won't suffice to clean a sinner. 
If his heart is choked with lies. 

There is too much talk of heaven, 
Too much talk of golden streets, 
When you can't be sympathetic 
When a needy neighbor meets; 
Too much talk about the riches 
You expect to get "up there," 
When one will not do his duty 
As a decent being here. 

49 



Chords and Discords 



There is too much Sunday goodness 
When you gather at the church, 
While next day you spurn a brother 
Who has fallen in the lurch. 
There is too much mournful preaching, 
Preaching of the things to come, 
How can you live straight in heaven 
When there is crookedness at home? 

And you needn't think the angels 
Have no other v^^ork to do, 
But to stitch on fancy garments 
To be packed away for you ; 
For the people live so crooked, 
Angels' robes will never fit, — 
Let us have less talk of heaven 
And do right a little bit. 



50 



Chords and Discords 



THE FIRST LIE 

I was but a country stripling, 

Pompey was a lad, thirteen. 

We as brothers played together, 

Watched the cows out on the green. 

Days of youth at times were sweetest, 

Oft they soured into gall; 

In our climb for youthful honors, 

We would often have a fall. 

It was in the heat of Summer, 

Out beneath the orchard boughs. 

Where we sat "jack-stones" a-playing 

As we watched the grazing cows. 

But Dame Fortune was against me, 

And I lost the games somehow, 

I preferred a charge of cheating. 

And we fell into a row. 

Stones at once commenced a-flying. 

And the missiles flew apace ; 

When I stopped to find a swear-word, 

His fist landed in my face. 

Stars began at once to twinkle. 

But I clinched him like a man, 

And we fought and tugged and tussled 

Only as two brothers can. 

When the same blood meets in battle, 

51 



Chords and Discords 



Sympathies are laid aside, 

And we fought like two young demons, 

Till each other bled and cried. 

Father dropped his reins to listen, 

Soon he stood as referee; 

As he came down thro the orchard 

He brought limbs from many a tree. 

Vengeance shone on his forehead, 

As he trod the orchard path; 

In his face was writ our judgment, 

On his brow paternal wrath. 

But before he used his weapons 

Both agreed by wink of eye, 

To combine to foil judgment 

Thro the medium of a lie. 

Quick as thought the scheme was settled, 

Neither of our eyes yet dry, 

Pompey swore we both were playing, — 

I at once confirmed the lie. 

Ah ! the old man stood dumbfounded, 

Pallor o'er his features came, 

Knowing we had broke his teaching 

And had lied to hide the same. 

But we clung to our decision. 

Nothing then could disunite; 

"But," said he, "you both were crying, 

And there must have been a fight." 

"Father, we have not been fighting. 

We were playing and at peace, 

And the water you discover 

Must have come down off the trees." 

52 



Chords and Discords 



"If you rascals can afford to 
Look at me and tell such lies, 
I am too amazed to whip you !" 
And he left us in surprise. 



53 



Chords and Discords 



APOTHEOSIS 

She was a type of what mortals call charms, 
With wavelets of snow on her shoulders and arms; 
Her tresses dropped down in caresses and waves, 
And the things we call men meekly fell down as 

slaves ; 
But seekers of beauty she failed to allure, — 
O zealous idolaters, her heart was not pure. 

The delicate tint of the lily's fair plush 
Was wed to the hue of the rose in her blush ; 
And the sheen of the stars was agleam in her eyes, 
And she bore all the charms cunning art could de- 
vise, — 
But art lost its magic and beauty its lure, — 
O zealous idolaters, her heart was not pure. 



54 



Chords and Discords 



A FESTIVAL IN CHRISTENDOM 

And it was in a Christian land, 
With freedom's towers on every hand, 
Where shafts to civic pride arise 
To lift America to the skies. 
And it was on a Sabbath day. 
While men and women went to pray. 
Well-groomed in fashion's bright design, 
Right proudly wending to their shrine. 
The bell up in the steeple spoke. 
Its ringing notes the silence broke, 
And on the pulsing Sabbath air 
Poured out its chimes, a call to prayer. 
He passed the crowd in humble mode 

While going to his meek abode. 

From out the crowd arose a cry, 

And epithets began to fly; 

And so this Christian mob did turn 

From prayer to rob, to lynch and burn. 

A victim helplessly he fell 

To tortures truly kin to hell; 

They bound him fast and strung him high. 

Then cut him down lest he should die 

Before their energy was spent 

In torturing to their heart's content. 

They tore his flesh and broke his bones, 

55 



Chords and Discords 



And laughed in triumph at his groans ; 
They chopped his fingers, clipped his ears 
And passed them round as souvenirs. 
They bored hot irons in his side 
And reveled in their zeal and pride; 
They cut his quivering flesh away 
And danced and sang as Christians may; 
Then from his side they tore his heart 
And watched its quivering fibres dart. 
And then upon his mangled frame 
They piled the wood, the oil and flame. 
Lest there be left one of his creed, 
One to perpetuate his breed; 
Lest there be one to bear his name 
Or build the stock from which he came. 
They dragged his bride up to the pyre 
And plunged her headlong in the fire, 
Full-freighted with an unborn child. 
Hot embers on her form they piled. 
And then they raised a Sabbath song. 
The echo sounded wild and strong, 
A benediction to the skies 
That crowned the human sacrifice. 
A little boy stepped out the crowd, 
His face was pale, his accents loud: 
"My ma could not get to the fun. 
And so I came, her youngest son. 
To get the news of what went on." 
He stirred the ashes, found a bone, — 
(A bit of flesh was hanging on.) 



56 



Chords and Discords 



He bore it off a cherished prize, 
A remnant of the sacrifice. 

And this where men are civilized, 
Where culture is so highly prized ; 
Where liberty with blood was bought, 
And all the "Christian virtues" taught, 
Where nations boast their God has sent 
The angel of Enlightenment. 
But while you sing your country's pride 
Where men for liberty have died, 
Compare the strain with double stress 
To her reward for harmlessness, 
When burning flesh makes sporty time, 
And innocence is greatest crime. 
Alas ! no doubt, the heathen reads 
Of Christian lands and Christian deeds; 
But blest is he who never sees 
Grim sacrifices such as these, 
Which culture wrings from the despised 
To pay for being civilized. 
Blest are those souls unhurt by sounds 
Of strife where love of God abounds, 
Who have not learned the curse of faith 
Accompanied by the curse of death ; 
Blest are those who know not the shame 
Which Christians do in Jesus' name. 
O heathen souls on heathen strand. 
What think you of a Christian land, 
Where Christians on a Sabbath day 



57 



Chords and Discords 



Upon their helpless brothers prey, 
And oft their drowsy minds refresh 
Thro sport of burning human flesh? 
But none dare tell who led the band, 
And this was in a Christian land. 



58 



Chords and Discords 



THE DEATH OF JUSTICE 

These the dread days which the seers have foretold, 
These the fell years which the prophets have 

dreamed ; 
Visions they saw in those full days of old, 
The fathers have sinned and the children blas- 
phemed. 
Hurt is the world, and its heart is unhealed, 
Wrong sways the sceptre and Justice must yield. 

We have come to the travail of troublous times, 
Justice must bow before Moloch and Baal; 
Blasphemous prayers for the triumph of crimes, 
High sounds the cry of the children who wail. 
Hurt is the world, and its heart is unhealed. 
Wrong sways the sceptre and Justice must yield. 

In the brute strength of the sword men rely, 
They count not Justice in reckoning things; 
Whom their lips worship their hearts crucify, 
This the oblation the votary brings. 
Hurt is the world, and its heart is unhealed. 
Wrong sways the sceptre and Justice must yield. 

Locked in death-struggle humanity's host, 
Seeking revenge with the dagger and sword; 

59 



Chords and Discords 



This is the pride which the Pharisees boast, 
Man damns his brother in the name of his Lord. 
Hurt is the world, and its heart is unhealed. 
Wrong sways the sceptre and Justice must yield. 

Time dims the glare of the pomp and applause, 
Vain-glorious monarchs and proud princes fall; 
Until the death of Time revokes his laws. 
His awful mandate shall reign over all. 
Hurt is the world, and its heart is unhealed, 
Wrong sways the sceptre and Justice must yield. 



60 



Chords and Discords 



LAND OF THE LIVING LIE 

Now they preach and pray "good will to men," 

And they sing of "peace on earth," 
And they tell of the joys when millennium dawns, 

And the new pentecostal birth ; 
But the children weep in their broken sleep, 

For hunger is gnawing within ; 
And the helpless hosts go by like ghosts 

To grind in the marts of men. 

And the birds of prey pick the bones by the way 

Where the burdened souls sink down ; 
They knelt in prayer and they perished there, 

And they wore a cross for a crown. 
But the revelers dance on the hills away 

Where the lights are sparkling high ; 
And life's too dear for the poor to pay 

In the land of the Living Lie. 

And the belching guns and the cannon's boom 

Shriek loud mid the hell of war ; 
And the grist in the mills is the souls of men 

That are stuffed in the grinding maw. 
And the sweetheart's sighs and the mother's moans, 

And the lisping children's cry 
Are silenced all in the maddening din 

In the land of the Living Lie. 
6i 



Chords and Discords 



And the barns are full and the presses burst 

With the grapes full ripe with wine; 
But the feasts are pawns of the thieves and lords, 

Not the toiler's meed nor mine. 
But Mammon's mills will cease to grind 

When the grist in the mills runs by, 
Then the grinders all will grind themselves 

In the land of the Living Lie. 



62 



Chords and Discords 



EVOLUTION 

Scientific men declare 

That man from monkey came, 
But prided Christian minds regard 

The theory with shame, 
And marvel that presumptuous men 

Blaspheme Jehovah's name. 

And men who hold these varied views 
With arguments have tried, 

And clashed on learning's battle-ground 
To justify their side; 

But when at last could not agree 
Each said the other lied. 

And theologs have spent their oil 
And spared no search nor pain 

To cement all the scattered links 
Throughout creation's chain 

To put to naught the theory 
The scientists maintain. 

The horse began the size of fox, 

At first his toes were five. 
Alike through years the lower forms 

To higher forms arrive; 

63 



Chords and Discords 



And in the strife of weak and strong 
The fittest will survive. 

The weaker creatures died out 

Beneath their stronger foe, 
Who metamorphosed himself somewhat 

As upward he did grow — 
Thus parent-stocks were modified, 

Zoology will show. 

Fair Science still comes to our aid, 

We find as we pursue, 
The flea into grasshopper jumped. 

Then frog — and on he grew 
To flying-squirrel — opossum next — 

Then into kangaroo. 

And musing o'er his helpless state. 

The poor disgruntled snail 
Leaped in the water and became 

A thing of more avail; 
He changed to minnow, — shad — then sharks 

To porpoise — into whale. 

The lightning-bug bemoaned his size, 

A change he underwent. 
He grew to hurnming-bird, — then quail. 

But still was discontent; 
Became a duck, — a peacock next, — 

And then to ostrich went. 

64 



Chords and Discords 



And even so man might have been 

An insect or a worm; 
No higher thought could he conceive 

Except to eat and squirm, 
Till one day eating he grew fat, 

And found his voice was firm. 

Then evolution soon commenced 

And, growing fast, began 
From worm to mouse — then rat — then fox, — 

(From speck into a span) 
And up he climbed — to wolf — then dog, — 

Then monkey — into man. 

Then speaks in wrath the theolog 

The scientists to damn ; 
"Your reasoning is blasphemy, 

Your theory a sham ; 
You may be monkeys grown from worms, — 

God made me as I am." 

Let wizards wrangle and dispute, 

The wise may fume and fret; 
But still despite how man came forth. 

One cannot well forget. 
The evolution's incomplete, — 

For man's a monkey yet! 



6S 



Chords and Discords 



IN SPITE OF DEATH 

Curses come in every sound, 

And wars spread gloom and death around. 

The cannon belch forth death and doom, 

But still the lilies wave and bloom. 

Man fills the earth with grief and wrong, 

But cannot hush the bluebird's song; 

My stars are dancing on the sea, 

The waves fling kisses up at me. 

Each night my gladsome moon doth rise, 

A rainbow gilds my evening skies; 

The robin's song is full and fine, 

And lilies lift their lips to mine. 

The jonquils ope their petals sweet, 
The poppies dance around my feet; 
In spite of winter and of death. 
The spring is in the zephyr's breath. 



66 



Chords and Discords 



THE GOODY GOODY GOOD 

Ye all, no doubt, have been deceived 

By goody goody people, 
Whose good professions were as high 

As some cathedral steeple; 
In whose pure eyes your faults did rise 

Like spectres grim and gory. 
While these masked devils in disguise 

Wore gilded robes of glory. 

If you would see these pious souls 

Just go to some church meeting; 
THey congregate to praise themselves, 

Like sinless lambs a-bleating; 
They tell their Lord how pure they are 

With eloquence expanding, — 
Most pious saints upon their knees. 

But devils when they're standing. 

They tell their Lord of all the sins 

Their neighbors have committed. 
Then ask for wings, gold shoes and crowns,- 

(The crooked can't be fitted.) 
It seems the Lord can't understand 

The language they are using, 
For never has He answered yet. 

Nor heeded their abusing. 

67 



Chords and Discords 



They sing of fields where manna grows, 

And hallelujah-halley, — 
Ambrosial things on heavenly trees 

In hallelujah valley; 
"Saints of the Lord" they call themselves 

And sing of peace and plenty, 
Tho earth ne'er had one day of peace 

Nor food for one in twenty. 

Once there were people just and wise, 

Devoid of false conventions. 
Nor did they look with evil eyes 

Upon their friends' intentions; 
But they have died, their spirits bide 

With ghosts up in the steeple, 
And I must still contend and fret 
With goody goody people. 

When sheaves of plenty filled my store 

And peace my way attended. 
Right readily the pious pure 

Unto my store-house wended ; 
And then misfortune dogged my steps. 

And friends I sorely needed, 
I sought these heaven-aspiring doves 

And my misfortunes pleaded. 

They came forsooth with tear-stained eyes 

And looked upon my sorrow: 
"Do not despair, O brother mine. 

We will return tomorrow." 

68 



Chords and Discords 



That hoped-for morrow never came, 

My heavy heart still yearning; 
The path that led those saints away 

Has never known a turning. 

They left their prayers, their songs, their tears. 

And that is all they left me, — 
A somewhat briny feast forsooth 

With all my hopes bereft me; 
Their vocal salve upon my head 

Has never made me younger, 
And not a prayer they ever said 

Has ever eased my hunger. 

When comes my time to pay that debt 

Which long I have been owmg, 
And I must board my little bark 

And set my sails for rowing; 
I want no golden streets nor robes, 

Nor home with gilded steeple, — 
All I desire is to be free 

From goody goody people. 



69 



Chords and Discords 



THE STRUGGLE OF THE AGE 

Now the cry goes forth from the heart of the world 
That is hurt by the prick of the sword, 

And legions of men in confusion are hurled 
Where the blood of the nations is poured. 

It is up and away to the call of the years, 

And the heart leaps up all afire; 
And the struggle goes on mid the wreck and the 
tears. 

And the death of the world heaping higher. 

On, on to the heights, for they tower the sky, 

The tense throng rushes in pain; 
They dash, do, and dare, no time to ask why, 

"We must get, we must grab, we must gain." 

It is march, march, march, to the call of the drum. 
The weak are pushed out of the race; 

And the soul grows sick of the hideous hum, 
While the maddened rush on in the chase. 

It is tramp, tramp, tramp, to the trump of the age, 

The mad crowds wearily plod; 
On, onward they jostle in turbulent rage, 

To the temple where Mammon is God. 
70 



Chords and Discords 



The sinews of life snap under the strain, 

So awful the tension they bear; 
Still deepens the conflict the summit to gain, 

The spoils of the summit to share. 

They get to the summit. The opposite side 
Is reeking with sorrow and sin ; 

They totter and fall, all shattered their pride 
As the boasts of discredited men. 

Far better the abode in the peace by the road, 
Away from the strife and the sin ; 

And meekly toil on for humanity's good 
Than the crown of discredited men. 



71 



Chords and Discords 



RELIGION 

I hold no dogmas and no creeds, 

It recks me not what be thy faith ; 
How stands thy life, how shine thy deeds, 
Dost thou e'er bless the heart that bleeds? 

The hungry heart in sorrow sayeth : 
Thy dogmas, doctrines scarce prevail 
To save a soul or form a tale. 

'Tis of thyself, and not thy creeds, I have a care. 

I have no care for preachers' moans. 
Nor for the prelates' studied prayer; 

What need has heaven for grunts and groans, 

These offerings of the churches' drones. 
What benediction do they bear? 

What boon to bless humanity 

Is treasured up for good to thee? 

What contribution hast thou made 

To give men life and liberty? 

Not of thy creeds, but of thy deeds, I have a care. 

I have no care how men proclaim 

Their piety or gifts of grace; 
How fares thy absent neighbor's name 
Upon thy tongue for good or blame? 

72 



Chords and Discords 



Thy fellow-friend before thy face 
Is lost in sin and sore distressed, 
While heaven which needs thee not is blest. 
What dost thou give the cause to win, 
To save man from himself and sin? 

'Tis of thy deeds, and not thy creeds, I have a 
care. 



n 



Chords and Discords 



THE LARK AND THE SONG 

A wounded lark had fluttered on my window-sill one 
night, 

My heart was moved with pity by its plea ; 
I offered it my shelter as a solace in its plight, 

With gentle hand I nursed it tenderly. 

I rued the cruel fingers that had sent the cruel dart 
To injure such a harmless little thing; 

And in its plaintive crying that flowed from its 
throbbing heart 
It seemed to say it had a broken wing. 

I gave it care and comfort till at last its wing grew 
strong, 

I bade it bye, — it sat in pensive mood. 
As if it fain would render some sweet ditty or a song 

In token of its love and gratitude. 

But not a note was warbled, for too soon my bird 
was off, 
Back to the haunts of freedom, — woods and plain, 
My heart was stung with pity, but withal was loath 
to scoff, — 
Perhaps my lark and song will come again. 

74 



Chords and Discords 



The bird has flown forever, but the blessing comes to 
me, 
As musingly I sat the drear day long; 
When Phyllis 'neath my window passed, her heart 
alive with glee, 
My heart cried out, "Behold my lark and song." 



75 



Chords and Discords 



SO SWEET OF YOU 

So sweet of you to cast a smile 

When all is night and clouds beguile ; 

The world grows kind and friends wax warm, 

And sunlight lightens up the storm. 

Then all is bright and skies are blue, 

Fond joys abide, — and so do you; 

So sweet of you. 

So sweet of you when clouds stay long 
To lighten up my way with song ; 
My day breaks fair, no more is night, 
Sweet visions loom upon my sight. 
My drooping wings are plumed anew, 
I mount up with the song and you, — 

So sweet of you. 

So sweet of you to watch and wait 

My coming at the open gate ; 

'Tis then for me the starlight gleams, 

I see the moon's deep crimson beams 

In eyes a-dancing like the rill, — 

Some charms do more than bless, — they kill. 

They strike the heart and pierce me thro; 

Was heart one half so kind as you ? 

So sweet of you. 
76 



Chords and Discords 



So sweet of you when I can trace 
The stars' reflections in your face; 
Fond mystic visions from the skies 
Encircle still more mystic eyes. 
Blow, chilling winds, for naught I care, 
One heart is warm and that I share; 
And he can boast a trusty friend 
When sympathetic heart-chords blend. 
The clouds reveal their richest hue, 
The world is kind, and so are you. 

So sweet of you. 

So sweet of you to laugh and sing. 
Such joys attend thy welcome ring. 
The attar rises from the rose, 
And dreams float on each breeze that blows, 
And zephyr's wings, scent-laden, fling 
Their sweet perfume, and harebells ring. 
No crowding care, no day to rue 
When thoughts of you my way pursue. 

So sweet of you. 

So sweet of you to scoff and tease. 
To tantalize and then appease; 
For joys are sweeter after pain. 
The Sun shines brighter after rain. 
The moldering embers glow and gleam. 
The hidden coals burst forth and beam; 
The drooping bud is bathed in dew, — 
My head's anointed well by you; 

So sweet of you. 

77 



Chords and Discords 



So sweet of you to fret and pout, 
To feign contempt, to fleer and flout. 
With puckered lips too sweet to kiss, 
Defiant eyes that veil the bliss 
Which thou withholdest for awhile 
To gild the sweet forth-coming smile. 
That rougish glance my heart doth woo, 
And play the childish peek-a-boo. 

So sweet of you. 



78 



Chords and Discords 



LOVE'S UNCHANGEABLENESS 

The kingdoms of ages have gone, 
They crumble and lie with the sod ; 
Like leaves their rich glories are strewn, 
They return to their doom or their god. 
And where is the pride of the past? 
The glories of earthly domains? 
They fell 'neath the withering blast, — 
And yet, O yet, love still remains. 

And what of fair Athens and Rome, 
The pride that they once boasted of? 
They fade as the beat of the drum, 
Like wax m the flame they dissolve, 
And Babel to dust doth return. 
The builders have labored in vain; 
But fires of fair friendship still burn, 
And pleasures of love still remain. 

We watch the bright trend of the age, 
And gather its wisdom and lore. 
Commune with the savage and sage. 
And snatch from dame Science her store; 
But wealth and all wisdom may fail 
And Want follow fast in their train, 
In spite of the wreck in the pale. 
The sweetness of love will remain. 
79 



Chords and Discords 



THE DOWNFALL OF HAMAN 

He burst into bloom like the buds of the Spring, 
His rich nectar sparkled with that of the king; 
He fell like the blossoms by wintry winds tossed 
When blighted by death in the withering frost. 

He scofFed at the humble who sat in the gate, 
And worshipped the pride of his mantle of state; 
The poison he mingled for souls on the brink 
Turned deathly and dread ere he measured the 
drink. 

And what the rewards if the harmless had died ? 
And what are the fruits of the haughty one's pride? 
His wrath doth rebound in a turbulent flood. 
And quenches his schemes in the schemer's own 
blood. 

And dread Retribution doth sit at the stern; 
Deceit whets his sword in his passions that burn ; 
He sweetens his poison with flattering glare, 
And leads off his victim to death and despair. 



80 



Chords and Discords 



to A SINGING BIRD 

Lo ! the air is rife with music, 
Far and near we hear the sound, 
And the stream purls o'er the pebbles, 
And the Sun spreads health around; 
Crickets chirp among the grasses, 
And the children laugh at play; 
On yon bough my singing joy-bird 
Pipes a gladsome roundelay. 

Something more than earthly music 

Swells the chords within his throat. 

Sky-born joys and heaven-sent freedom 

Interwoven in each note; 

All the raptures of his bird-love 

Bubble in his soulful theme, 

And my heart renews its springtime 

In the vision and the dream. 

He is singing at the portals 
Of the heavenly gates ajar. 
And he showers earth with gladness 
And it spreads from star to star. 
Now he feels the thrill of living, 
And he knows the joy of praise, 
And he sends to heaven his anthems 
From his heart's immortal lays. 
8i 



Chords and Discords 



Soulful serenades of spring-time, 
Soft sweet symphonies of sounds, 
All the secret joy of bird-life 
In his throbbing heart abounds; 
And he sings care-free and fearless, 
Perched beyond earth's sin and vice, 
Tiptoeing his heavenly ditty 
On the rim of Paradise. 



82 



Chords and Discords 



TO THE HYPOCRITE 

I would rather encourage 

The infidel's creeds, 
Or pardon with pity 

The meanest of deeds, 
Than once coincide 

With the king's haughty airs. 
Or dare to be moved 

By the hypocrite's prayers. 

The man who complains 

When the world is all song, 
Or dares to sit mute 

When the world is all wrong; 
Who barters his freedom 

Vile honors to win. 
Deserves but to die 

With the vilest of men. 

I've respect for the sinner 

Standing boldly aloof; 
I've respect for the skeptic 

Demanding his proof; 
His sins are uncovered. 

His creeds are well-known, 
If I should fall victim, 

The fault is my own; 

83 



Chords and Discords 



But the man who will cloak 

In a flattering disguise, 
And sacrifice Justice 

For pretense and lies, 
Who tampers with Truth 

For the plaudits of men, 
Has sacrificed self 

On the altars of sin. 



84 



Chords and Discords 



THE WARBLER AND THE WORM 

High over the vale the warbler perched, 
The whole surrounding main he searched; 
All creatures else he would engage, 
As if the world were built his stage. 
He poured his heart full out in song, 
He warbled thus the whole day long, 
Nor thought what time or tide might bring. 
His task was but to soar and sing. 

A worm was plodding in the wood, 

A-hoarding in his winter's food. 

And thought the warbler vain and wrong 

To spend the precious hours in song. 

A critic bold with voice as firm 

Spoke out his wrath, thus did the worm: 

" Twere better far for all thy kind, 

O bird, to leave thy song behind. 

Thy lazy lay makes thee a shirk, 

The noblest duty lies in work." 

The warbler paused awhile to hear 

What truth the worm's dull note might bear: 

"I pity thee, poor toiling worm, 

Doomed to the dust to slave and squirm ; 

Thou crawlest the earth, thy glory ends 

85 



Chords and Discords 



Where royal rule of mine begins." 
And once again his lay began, 
The whole gamut of song he ran. 

The bird's rebuke in language gruff 
Chagrined the worm to make rebuff: 
"I am the monarch of the soil, 
And find a comfort in my toil ; 
I knead the soil and work for man 
That he may feed and clothe his clan ; 
I am forerunner of the plow, 
Far less a benefactor thou." 
And so the worm turned to his load. 
And plodded on along the road. 

The warbler proudly spread his wing, 
And perched on higher bough to sing. 
As if to spurn the worm's dull fee 
And better show his royalty; 
And conscious of a nobler pride. 
He thus to plodding worm replied : 
"And what is life without a song 
To cheer the road you plod along? 
My song gives ease unto thy load, 
I do not crave the things you hoard ; 
My kingdom is the stretch of wing. 
With royal right to soar and sing; 
The realms of light and love are mine, 
A kinship with the things divine; 
I spurn the dismal vale you plod, 
I mount up to the hills of God." 
86 



Chords and Discords 



And proud to be a warbler born, 
He raised his note and still sang on. 

And warbling warbler warbles song, 
And worming worm doth worm along; 
Each conscious of superior worth. 
Each priding in a nobler birth. 
And man is warbler, also worm. 
He soars and sings, and stoops to squirm; 
He worms along to get his food, 
And sings to make it sweet and good. 
At morn he wrings from earth his fee, 
At evening turns to minstrelsy. 
Where none will toil, a sickly throng, 
And worse with none to cheer with song. 



87 



Chords and Discords 



TO THE HUMMING BIRD 

Vision of crimson plume, 

Say from whence thou dost come, 

Humming thy chorus and kissing the bloom; 
Flash of the lightning's blue. 
Flake of the rainbow's hue, 

Where art thou journeying, where is thy home? 

Flecked in thy gilt array, 
Earth has no dreams so gay. 

Gladly we welcome thee, heaven-born dream; 
Emblem of comeliness. 
Spirit of loveliness, 

A song would not heighten thy beauty supreme. 

Then when the flowerets bloom. 
Eager to have thee come. 

Then will the lily lips fain be unfurled ; 
Blest will thy coming be. 
Gardens to welcome thee. 

Thou livest in the skyland and wingest the world. 

Tidings from regions fair. 
Thou dost the gardens bear. 

Stealing sweet secrets from flower lips gay ; 
Back to thy realms of love. 
Back to thy home above. 

Back to thy darlings thou wingest away. 



Chords and Discords 



TO THE APOLOGIST 

Who would condone the wrong, 

Or else for private gain 
Speaks what his heart disproves, 

Who would his conscience blunt 
And accept a lie for truth, 

Or else accept inferior place 
When nature made us men, 

Mocks the God within him. 
Rebukes the highest attributes 

Which distinguish man from beast, 
And makes himself less than man. 



89 



Chords and Discords 



TO NELLIE 

The peacock's colors gayly blend, 

He proudly spreads his gorgeous train ; 

A fifty-dollar hat, my friend. 

Adds no improvement to thy brain. 

Thy soul's sweet self I value best, 

The beauties which within thee blend ; 

Wert thou in homespun gingham drest, 
I'd still claim thee a valued friend. 



90 



Chords (171 d Discords 



THE KISSING SCHOOL 

Just a stone's throw from the cabin 
In the village on the plain 
Stands a little tumbling schoolhouse, 
Where I frolicked when a swain ; 
There were Tom and Fred and Larney 
To increase my youthful sport ; 
I remember at the reckoning 
We all fell a fraction short. 
There were lassies in the schoolhouse 
Who wore softened airs of grace, 
And the peach and apple blossoms 
Lost their sweetness in their face. 
They were young and ripe with beauty 
With a subtle magic air ; 
I was hero when it came to 
Stealing roses for their hair. 
There were problems then to cipher, 
There were lessons, too, to tell, 
There were charms of joy and pastime 
Till the schoolbell broke the spell. 
And I look back o'er the pages 
Of the joys that childhood bore, 
And I'd give a thousand longings 
Could I but recount them o'er. 
But old Time has run out changes, 

91 



Chords and Discords 



Many things have come to pass; 
Did I think that I would ever 
Take possession of the class? 
'How the school is better builded, 
Wears a brand-new coat of brown, 
Neighbor to the one I cherish 
With the doors all tumbling down. 
There was never prouder monarch 
Perched upon his gilded stool, 
Nor was sceptre half so royal 
As the rod by which I rule. 
But our ruling's oft deceiving, 
Privilege makes men too wise; 
What we think to give as blessings 
May be scandal in disguise; 
This is just the way it happened; 
She was but a tot of six, 
I with eagle eye as master 
Caught her in her childish tricks. 
But alas! too hard I scolded, 
Till it made the teardrops start; 
How the little thing did tremble, 
Weeping out her little heart. 

I was filled with deep compassion, 
Pity which I couldn't hide, 
Sent the pupils from the classroom. 
Called the little one to my side. 
As a father fain would pity 
His own trembling, bleeding child. 
Tenderly I wiped her teardrops, 
92 



Chords and Discords 



Kissed her cheek, she hushed and smiled. 

Out to play the tot did scamper, 

As she passed out midst the crowd, 

There arose a rising tumult 

With an echo wild and loud. 

For the little child had told it. 

And each mother's little Miss 

Rushed straight back into that school-room 

Begging teacher for a kiss. 

So I taught no more that evening, 

It was near the close of day, 

Sent the pupils home in fury, 

Locked my desk and went away. 

But the message kept a-going, 

Soon 'twas on the breezes flung, 

Till it had spread thro the village, 

Rolling on from tongue to tongue. 

And next day my school was crowded. 

Every Miss from far and wide 

Thronged into my doors next morning 

Like the rushing of the tide. 

Mothers, sisters, maids and misses 

Stood before me to explain. 

That they thought they had decided 

To re-enter school again; 

Said they liked my way of teaching. 

And the good result it brings, 

Said they liked my mood and methods 

And the way I managed things. 

Now my school is overflowing. 

And I teach the whole year long, 



93 



Chords and Discords 



Have decided to enlarge it, 
For it cannot hold the throng. 
And my days are overcrowded, 
Burdened with more work than rule, 
My success is now unbounded 
Since I run a kissing school. 



94 



Chords and Discords 



WHERE AIR OF FREEDOM IS 

Where air of freedom is 

I will not yield to men, 

To narrow caste of men 
Whose hearts are steeped in sin. 
I'd sell the barbarous king, 
And let his goods be stole, 
Before I'd sell my soul, 
Or yield to base control 
Of vile and cruel men. 

Where air of freedom is 
I will not yield to men. 
I'd rather choose to die 

Than be a living lie 

A lie in all I preach, 
A lie in all I teach, 



While Truth within my heart 
Its burning fires dart 
To burn my mask of sin, 
I'd rather victory win 
Thro martyr's death than grin 
At wrongs of cruel men. 

Where air of freedom is 
I will not yield to men. 

95 



Chords and Discords 



I spurn the alms of men, 
The livery of kings; 
I own far nobler things. 
I'd rather choose to own 
The pauper's garb and bone, 
The eagle's eye of truth, 
The lion's strength of youth, 
The liberty of thought, 
A free man's right unbought, 
A conscience and a soul, 
Beyond the king's control. 
Than be the lord of slaves, 
Of quaking, aching slaves, — 
Of senseless, soulless knaves. 
Or seek to revel in 
His ill-got wealth and fame. 
His world-wide name of shame. 

His liberty to sin 

I will not yield to men. 



96 



Chords and Discords 



THEY SHALL NOT PASS 

On came the darkness and up rose the moon, 
Shooting its rays o'er the walls of Verdun; 
Forcing the gates came the Hun with his lance, 
Dealing out death to the fair lands of France; 
Loud boomed the cannon and loud belched the guns 
From the bright dawn till the setting of Suns ; 
Till the fair vales turned a bloody morass, — : — 
Spirit of France declared, "They shall not pass." 

Thousands were there driven onto the wall. 
Thousands were there in the trenches to fall, 
Thousands who dared not their death-duty shirk, 
Comrades in death when the guns did their work; 
Blood-soaked and mangled, and broken their lance, — 
Still waves on high the Tricolor of France. 
Iron-clad defenders with spirits of brass. 
They pledged their life or death, — "They shall not 
pass." 

Horses and men in the death struggle reel, — 
Earth quivers far 'neath the rending of steel. 
O the wild shriek and loud roar of the guns! 
Lighting the night with ten thousands of suns. 
Death is the lord in the wake of the shell. 
Veiling all heaven with the blanket of hell. 

97 



Chords and Discords 



Horses and cannon and men in a mass,- 



Death blots distinctions out, — "They shall not pass." 

Every heart echoed from Sun-kissed Calais 
Down the wide stretches of bright Biscay Bay; 
Thundered the tocsin o'er valley and lea, 
From Flanders front to the gates of the Sea: 
"Unto arms, men of France, breastplate and shield. 
Lives on your altars and strength in the field." 
Might to might, steel to steel melted as glass,- 



Death was their recompense. They did not pass. 

Ye shall not pass to-day. Fiends of Might, 
Killing men's souls with your venom and blight, 
Demons of Hate and Lust, Molochs of Greed, 
Goading the mothers and children who bleed ; 
Steeled with defiance, our hearts are aflame. 
Life or death pledged 'gainst the Vampires of shame ; 
Iron in our sinews and spirits of brass. 
This be our oriflamme, — "They shall not pass." 



98 



Chords and Discords 



CREDO 

I am an Iconoclast. 
I break the limbs of idols 
And smash the traditions of men. 

I am an Anarchist. 

I believe in war and destruction 

Not in the killing of men, 

But the killing of creed and custom. 

I am an Agnostic. 
I accept nothing without questioning. 
It is my inherent right and duty 
To ask the reason why. 
To accept without a reason 
Is to debase one's humanity 
And destroy the fundamental process 
In the ascertainment of Truth. 

I believe in Justice and Freedom. 
To me Liberty is priestly and kingly; 
Freedom is my Bride, 
Liberty my Angel of Light, 
Justice my God. 

I oppose all laws of state or country, 
All creeds of church and social orders. 
All conventionalities of society and system 
Which cross the path of the light of Freedom 
Or obstruct the reign of Right. 

99 



Chords and Discords 



HERO OF THE ROAD 

Let me seek no statesman's mantle, 
Let me seek no victor's wreath, 
Let my sword unstained in battle 
Still lie rusting in its sheath; 
Let my garments be unsullied, 
Let no man's blood to me cling; 
Life is love and earth is heaven, 
If I may but soar and sing. 

This then is my sternest struggle, 
Ease the load and sing my song. 
Lift the lame and cheer the cheerless 
As they plod the road along; 
And we see ourselves transfigured 
In a new and bigger plan; 
Man transformed, his own Messiah, 
God embodied into man. 



lOO 



